Gambits and Endgames
by Louiseifer
Summary: Can a relationship be like a game of chess? Can a game of chess be like a relationship? James and Peter play. Remus and Sirius nurse old wounds. Slash.


Gambits and Endgames.  
  
"It's getting ridiculous really," said James with a small sigh, as he laid out the chess board. "Did you see them in Charms this morning? Sirius kept throwing paper balls at him, as if that's likely to endear him towards anybody, and Remus just plain ignored Sirius except for the nineteen times he glanced longingly at him when he thought he wasn't looking. Nineteen! I counted," he added, when Peter raised his eyebrows incredulously. "I'm amazed Moony got nineteen opportunities to gaze at Sirius; most of the time Sirius was gazing at him."  
  
Peter helped to arrange the chess men on the board. He always played white, James black. Apparently it symbolised Peter's good nature against James' mischievous side, but Peter didn't really care what colour he played. He did, however, like the fact that he got to move first. He had developed a technique by which he could win a game of chess in no more than five moves, but James, Sirius and Remus had banned him from using it against them. Now he just relied on James' momentary lapses in concentration. James was a spectacular player, but Peter knew his weak spots. On the other hand, James knew his. Their games frequently ran to days, weeks, and even months, and attracted large audiences. They were never predictable matches, and both were determined to trick the other out of their victory.  
  
Peter's white pieces lined up nobly, the pawns solid and alert, the back row tall and proud. James' stumbled over each other, and an errant knight had to be flicked off the board to stop it chasing a very small pawn which had accidentally trod on its foot. James rolled his eyes, called for order, and glared angrily as his pieces sorted themselves out.  
  
"Why don't they just get on with it?" Peter asked as the pieces finally stood in four straight lines. "I mean, they like each other. What's stopping them from just. . . you know." His nose flushed pink and he ushered his first pawn forward to B3.  
  
"Well they don't know they both like each other," said James matter-of- factly. "They're completely oblivious. It's sort of funny, but frustrating too."  
  
"It's silly," said Peter. "If someone liked me, or if I liked them, I wouldn't ignore them like they do."  
  
James pushed a pawn forwards too. "Well, no Peter, but this is Moony and Padfoot. It must be pretty weird for them, realising they fancy one of their best friends."  
  
"But Sirius has been out with heaps of people."  
  
"All girls. And all outside our group of friends. Just imagine if you fell in love with Moony, wouldn't you feel really awkward?"  
  
Peter lazily played his turn, and shrugged. "I guess so, but I'm not Sirius. Sirius doesn't do awkward."  
  
"No, Peter, Sirius does awkward-on-the-inside-but-arrogant-on-the-outside. He's very good at it."  
  
The chess pieces seemed to be far more interested in their conversation than their game, and kept looking from James to Peter and back again, as if they were watching a tennis match. They had, both sets, belonged to their masters for a long time, and were highly interested in the affairs of the Marauders. It was James' Queen who spoke up.  
  
"It's been like this ever since that silly little prank, you know," she said haughtily. "You remember, dear," she added, nudging the king beside her, "that trick last year with the Slytherin boy and the Whomping Willow."  
  
The king nodded. "Yes, yes, she's quite right."  
  
"Thank you for that," said James. "Bishop to G6."  
  
But it was true, they both knew. Ever since Sirius had risked three lives with his foolish prank on Severus Snape, there had been a huge, silent gulf between him and Remus. They had talked for hours the day afterwards, and apparently were still very much friends. They discussed the reasons for and implications of the trick. It was agreed Sirius had acted foolishly, but was suitably ashamed and would never risk his friends like that again. Sirius had apologised, Remus had accepted. Theoretically, things were back to normal almost instantly, but James and Peter could see there was something there which had not healed quickly with the rest of the wound, but was slowly turning into an abscess. James had assumed Remus still smarted from the insult of being used as a tool of Sirius' anger, and Sirius was so ashamed he couldn't look Remus in the face yet, but it wasn't that at all. James had been dating Lilly Evans for four months now, and had learned to his great surprise that she was Remus' most trusted confidante. It had taken him weeks and a fair amount of presents to wheedle out of her the fact that Remus was not angry with Sirius, but in love with him and that was why he tried not to look at him, avoided touching him, and became jittery when Sirius entered the room. Lily had sworn him to utmost secrecy; Remus would be heartbroken if he discovered she had betrayed his trust, even to James. And that was why, when a heartbroken Sirius had confessed to James after far too much butterbeer, that he was secretly in love with Remus and distraught that the fair-haired boy seemed to have forgotten he existed, James could only pat his best friend on the shoulder and assure him he was lucky to have Remus as a friend rather than a lover.  
  
"If Sirius hadn't played that stupid trick, I bet they would have spoken about it," said Peter, poking his pawn forward with his wand. "They always used to talk about girls and stuff before. Well, Sirius used to talk about girls," he added, his eyes widening. "Has Remus always been this way?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm," said James. "Well I'm guessing so. He's never actually come out and said it, has he? Although he did kiss Josie Patterson last year."  
  
"Josie kissed him," said Peter, laughing at the memory. "Poor Josie, she liked him for ages. He practically fainted!"  
  
James allowed himself to laugh at his friend's expense; it had been a truly comedic moment. But the situation was actually serious; this fission in the ranks of the marauders had to be reversed, and there was only one way James could think of healing the divide.  
  
"We have to get them together," he said, watching as his bad-tempered knight was chased off the board by one of Peter's pawns. He winced. His moves had suddenly become very limited.  
  
"I don't know," said Peter, smirking happily. "I reckon they're capable of figuring it out for themselves."  
  
. . .  
  
Remus was reading. The library was his refuge from the exasperating real world, and he spent many a contented evening curled up in an armchair with a thick novel in his lap. Now he was reading War and Peace from the Muggle Literature section, something his father had always encouraged him to read. He couldn't say he was fond of it so far, but the day Remus Lupin gave up on a book was the day the world decided it was tired of being round and decided it would be flat from now on instead. The fire crackled comfortingly in the hearth beside him, and he could almost convince himself, with his eyes shut, the warmth of the fire on his bare cheek and the rough feel of the pages under his skin, that he was a small boy again at home in his mother's house. He was sure that if he hadn't been so irreversibly outcast from decent society, he would not have the same longing to be part of the muggle world. It must be such a carefree life, he told himself, being normal.  
  
The librarian had adopted Remus as her favourite student from his first term at Hogwarts, because he never folded pages over, never left books lying around, never used them to put his coffee mug on, and always put them back where he found them. In the evenings, she often brought him some biscuits and a drink, but tonight there was no sign of her. Remus didn't mind, but he did wonder briefly where she could be.  
  
The weight of the hardback was causing his leg to ache, so he hefted it off his lap and carefully placed a bookmark on his page before closing it and putting it to one side. And that was the moment Sirius chose to step out from behind the bookcase right in front of Remus, nose buried in "Advanced Potions For The Dedicated Student". Sirius was specialising in potions this year and had been neglecting his homework recently, so Remus reasoned that it was not unusual that Sirius should be here. Sirius, however, did not know that this was where Remus hid of an evening.  
  
The black-haired boy didn't notice the blond, but glanced up at another bookshelf, scowling deeply.  
  
"Artemis Destifuge my arse," he muttered. "There's no such writer."  
  
Remus didn't pause to wonder whether he sounded like a swot when he spoke up. "He's in the restricted section."  
  
"Moony!" Sirius jumped out of his skin and dropped the book he was carrying. "What're you doing here?"  
  
"Reading."  
  
"Oh." Sirius had to admit to himself, as he snatched his text book back off the floor, that it had been a rather stupid question. "Me too," he said.  
  
Remus smiled. "No, you're doing last month's homework, aren't you?"  
  
"That too. Restricted section you say? That bastard Snape told me I needed it, I wonder if he's just trying to get me in trouble."  
  
"When did you start believing everything Snape says?"  
  
"About the same time he beat me in every single potions exam." Sirius was still incredibly bitter about this. "I told him I'd leave him alone if he helped me catch up."  
  
Remus suppressed a laugh. "And when did Snape start believing everything you say?"  
  
"I know. Gullible twat."  
  
"Want me to get the book for you?"  
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "But you said-"  
  
"It's restricted, yes. Hang on."  
  
Remus rummaged around in the librarian's desk until he found what he was looking for. It was a badge, made of a piece of laminated card attached to a clip. Remus put the badge on his shirt and pushed open the door of the restricted section of the library. Sirius trotted after him, awe-struck, and watched him pick out the book Sirius wanted.  
  
"'Potions; the Subtle Art', right?"  
  
"That's it. But-"  
  
Remus opened the book. Nothing happened. He flicked through the pages. "Tough stuff," he commented, leading the way back to the main library. He handed the book to Sirius, whose expression was one of a man who had just been handed a live grenade.  
  
"It's okay," said Remus, and pointed at his badge. It said: "Assistant Librarian", and gave the bearer all the privileges of the librarian herself, including access to the restricted section of the library.  
  
"You sly little weasel!" said Sirius, grinning. "I suppose that's how you always know exactly how to plan for every Marauders Escapade?"  
  
Remus nodded. "Madame Pince doesn't realise I know the power of the Assistant Librarian badge, of course, so I'd be obliged if you keep quiet about it."  
  
"Well obviously."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They stood in the warm glow of the fire, Sirius examining the leather cover of the book and Remus examining the exquisite bone-structure of Sirius' face, enhanced by the red shadows playing across his skin. Remus thought, not for the first time, about kissing him. It wouldn't be difficult; there was no one else around and Sirius' red lips were pursed with the concentration of reading. Remus longed for them to part invitingly. That would be his sign, his invitation. He watched, longingly, and sure enough Sirius' eyes flickered up to look at Remus, and his tongue twitched out to moisten his lower lip before retreating, leaving his mouth open slightly. Remus instantly began to move, but his muscles had scarcely received the instruction to step forwards and embrace Sirius when the library door flew open. The movement changed at once, and he snatched the badge from his shirt. Both he and Sirius thrust their hands behind their backs and donned expressions of polite respect as the librarian walked swiftly past them. As she sat at her desk, Remus glanced at Sirius, who was thinking the same thing. They stuffed book and badge into their pockets, and made straight for the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
. . .  
  
"Interesting gambit," said James, "but I foiled you as usual." His black knight charged one of Peter's rooks off the board, much to the smaller boy's dismay.  
  
"Are you sure you're not cheating?" Peter snapped.  
  
"Perfectly sure, my dear Wormtail! Your move."  
  
Peter stared at the board for a long time, and grudgingly moved a pawn one seemingly harmless space forwards. James, in his moment of glory, hardly noticed the bishop's path which had been freed from obstruction.  
  
"So yes," Peter said eventually. "What can we do about Moony and Padfoot? For all I can see, they're best left to their own devices."  
  
"Sirius left to his own devices is a disaster waiting to happen," said James. "Or rather, a disaster frequently happening. Remus left to his own devices is almost as bad. And the two combined? Apocalypse."  
  
Peter shrugged. "But what can we do?"  
  
"Any number of things." James pointed at the middle of the chess board, where his black knight was in a stalemate with Peter's white rook. "Like this. In three moves or so, I could take your castle. In less, you could take my knight. But neither of us is going to let that happen, are we? Sirius is like a knight; bold, rash, daring. Remus is the sturdy castle. Neither really knows the other is after them, and neither wants to give away the game too soon, that they are in fact after the other. The safest bet would be for one of us to withdraw. That's what we would do here; you could move your rook out of the way, making him safe to watch from a distance. And I could move my knight instead to attack your little pawn there." James grinned. "Both are safe; neither are satisfied."  
  
"So what?"  
  
"So! We intervene. We don't let the game happen naturally, because that way no one wins.  
  
"So what do we do?" Asked Peter. "It's your move," he added.  
  
. . .  
  
It was nearly time to be heading back to their dormitory, but Sirius and Remus were Marauders and a little fact like that didn't concern them. They wandered through the passageways, neither really sure where they were heading, but both silently enjoying the other's company while pretending they weren't. Remus was getting very good at pretending he had forgotten Sirius was there, and Sirius was equally good at pretending he hadn't noticed this. There had been no outward hostility between them since the events of the previous year, but chilly silences remained in abundance.  
  
Sirius was furious with himself. He knew if he had treated Remus better, his chances of ensnaring the taller boy would be triple what they were now, but it was too late to change that; the damage was done. Remus was scarred both physically and emotionally that night with Snape, and there were some scars which even magic could never heal.  
  
He was also furious with himself for telling James about his feelings. If he hadn't done that, he could convince himself eventually that he didn't care about Remus at all, and get on with his life. He avoided confronting the fact that he did not want to erase Remus from his life by reminding himself that James knew, and if James knew then it was an unavoidable truth; he loved Remus.  
  
Remus was a prefect, which was very useful indeed. They passed Sirius' potions master in the main hall, and Remus assured him that he was escorting Sirius back to Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Are you?" asked Sirius, when the professor had gone.  
  
"No idea," said Remus. He paused before the doors. "It's a nice night, isn't it?" he commented. Sirius followed his gaze; the moon was a slender crescent suspended amongst the stars. He nodded.  
  
"Shall we go for a walk?"  
  
"We are walking," said Remus.  
  
"I mean out there."  
  
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Why?"  
  
"You said. It's a nice night."  
  
Without a further word, Sirius started down the steps and out into the starlit grounds. Remus followed him, two steps behind, unable to take his eyes off the night sky. One of those stars was called Sirius, but he couldn't tell which. Silence dominated once again, but Remus allowed it to be a companionable one. Sirius had tried so hard to fix things after last year, and it wasn't fair to make him feel guilty just because Remus had to pretend he didn't love him.  
  
"I thought next month we could go over there," said Sirius, pointing away from the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade village, in a direction little- explored by the students. "I know we've been to the edge of the school grounds, but I want to know what's down in that valley."  
  
Remus nodded. It was a long time since they had spoken about their Full Moon exploits together, without James or Peter.  
  
"Me too. Apparently there's an abandoned mine down there. Could be worth a look."  
  
"Cool. We can tell the others."  
  
Silence again, as they approached the lake.  
  
"How's the Defence lessons going?"  
  
Remus shrugged. "Fine." He was specialising in Defence Against the Dark Arts this year, a subject Sirius had little enthusiasm for. The fact that they had no lessons together any more had widened the breach between them. James was taking transfiguration, and Peter was with Remus in Defence lessons. James and Sirius had always been best of friends, and Peter and Remus worked together every day. There was little to bring Sirius and Remus together any more, or at least, little that they knew of. Sirius recognised all this, and knew that he could not let Remus just drift away from him like that. He had to do something, and it was his move.  
  
Sirius crouched down on the shingle beside the lake, groping around for a smooth, flat pebble. Once he found one, he weighed it experimentally in his hand, and glanced over at Remus.  
  
"Ever skimmed stones, Moony?"  
  
"Never got the hang of it."  
  
"Come here then."  
  
He handed the pebble to Remus, and stooped to pick up another for himself. He demonstrated carefully how to hold the stone, and how to skim it gently across the water so that it skipped and hopped over the wavelets. It bounced eight times before sinking beneath the surface. Remus looked suitably impressed.  
  
"I'll show you how," Sirius offered, moving round behind Remus and taking his arm. He expected Remus to jerk away from him; in over a year Sirius had been wordlessly forbidden from touching the tall, quiet boy, but now Remus didn't resist or even flinch when Sirius showed him how to grip the stone, then guided his arm in a wide arc.  
  
"That's when you would let go," the dark boy instructed, holding Remus' arm still in front of him. "Try it."  
  
Sirius stepped back and watched as Remus imitated the movement he had just been shown. The pebble flew out of his hand and skipped twice before sinking. Sirius whooped and applauded, scooping up another stone.  
  
"Brilliant, try again!"  
  
Sirius hopped around the shore finding suitable pebbles, giving some to Remus who seemed intent on beating Sirius' eight bounces and skimming some himself. When Sirius' stone bounced ten times across the lake, Remus laughed and surrendered. Sirius wanted more than anything to throw his arms around him and kiss him stupid, but Remus looked tired and vulnerable all of a sudden.  
  
"You've won," Remus said, holding his hands up. "Now take me home before I fall asleep out here."  
  
. . .  
  
"I'm not letting you win this," said Peter, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"Give it up, you repulsive little man." James grinned triumphantly at him as his knight stepped forwards, placing itself in a position to take the white King. "Check, incidentally."  
  
"But not checkmate."  
  
"Well no. But I've got you, I know it."  
  
"Rubbish. King to F2."  
  
"You just wait."  
  
They grinned at each other; no hard feelings were ever developed over chess despite the banter. Whoever won, won. There were no arguments and no resentment.  
  
"Anyway," said James, as they continued to play. "I think I have a plan."  
  
"Let's hear it then."  
  
"Well. You know Remus always hangs out in the library in the evening? No, of course you didn't, only I know that. Well he does, anyway, and all we need to do is get Sirius to go there."  
  
Peter raised an eyebrow. "And . . . That's it?"  
  
"Well no. We ask him to get us a book, one which he'll never find on his own, and he'll have to ask Remus to help him find it. "  
  
". . . Yes?"  
  
"And then they'll have to talk to each other, and they'll realise how much they've missed each other. We'll make sure they're alone, so no one disturbs them. They'll have no inhibitions then. Sirius is bound to make a move."  
  
"Or Remus," said Peter, defending their quieter friend.  
  
"But Sirius will anyway. He's much more confident."  
  
"Remus is more sensitive, he's bound to win."  
  
"Win? It's not about winning, Peter. It's-" James had glanced at the chess board again. "Well bugger me," he said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Remind me never to plot while playing chess again, will you? Look at that."  
  
Peter looked. And he looked again. And his eyes widened. "Bloody hell," he said. "We weren't paying very much attention, were we?"  
  
They both stared at the chess board. There were very few pieces left now; hardly any pawns, and only one bishop. But James' black knight remained, frowning to itself and holding Peter's king in checkmate. And Peter's white rook was standing there looking faintly puzzled, but definitely holding James' king in checkmate. The rest of the pieces looked perfectly innocent; Peter's Queen whistled to herself.  
  
"Obviously not. Any idea who got there first?"  
  
Peter shook his head, utterly perplexed. "I guess it's a draw, Prongs," he concluded.  
  
"I guess it is."  
  
. . .  
  
They both had memories of setting out towards the castle. Both had intended to get back to their dormitory and have an early night. Both were worn out from holding up their pretence of complete indifference towards the other. Neither could remember how they ended up in the prefects' bathroom, flicking each other with water, laughing childishly and battling with dripping wet sponges. This had been a popular sport until they hit puberty. Well, after that it had still been popular but less practiced. James was the reigning Bathroom War king, but Sirius and Remus had plenty of victories of their own, and were evenly matched.  
  
Remus knew it was foolish to shelter behind a cubicle door, but he did it anyway. The first barrage of water aimed at him was deflected by the door, but as he knew it must, a wet sponge dropped on his head moments later. Sirius grinned at him over the top of the next cubicle, then vanished again. Instantly, Remus was in hot pursuit and they slipped and skidded across the soaked tiles of the floor, lunging at each other with loofahs as swords and towels as shields. Remus was the first to slip over, but was on his feet again before Sirius could grab him or alternatively beat him to death with a washing implement.  
  
"Surrender!" Sirius insisted, sticking his hand under a running tap so the water was deflected right into Remus' face.  
  
"Not in this lifetime." Remus ducked under the water and quickly tied his towel round Sirius' legs before dashing away. As Sirius tried to untangle himself, Remus held a sponge over his head and rung it out.  
  
"Right, that's it, wolf-boy! You're finished!" Sirius laughed, spluttering on water as he dived after Remus. But the werewolf had always been faster, and his evasive movements lured Sirius into a shower stall. Remus was, suddenly, gone. Sirius frowned, glancing about, and didn't notice in time that he was under the shower head before the water came gushing down on him. He yelped in surprise, but the water was a welcome chill on this hot evening, and he lifted his chin to let the drops bathe his face and hair. Remus grinned at him from the next stall, and suddenly Sirius was on the move again. He shoved aside the curtain that separated him from Remus and slammed his palm against the button that turned on Remus' shower; soon they were both drenched in cool, fresh water.  
  
Neither knew how they had got there, and neither knew who initiated the kiss. It was something of a puzzle; one moment they were fighting, the next they were wrapped in one another's arms, lips fighting for purchase on the other's mouth against the torrents of water, hands grasping drenched clothes and hair. It was so subtle a change that it came as a surprise when they realised what they were doing.  
  
"Did you. . .?"Sirius began, moving his head away but not letting go of the boy he loved.  
  
Remus shook his head. "Then it wasn't you. . .?"  
  
"I don't think . . .."  
  
"Me neither, but. . . "  
  
"Do you want . . .?"  
  
"Did you . . .?"  
  
Neither of them moved. It took a while for each to realise that the other was not trying to get away. Remus very softly rubbed his thumb across Sirius' earlobe. Sirius' involuntary gasp was all he needed to hear. Remus' shy smile was all Sirius needed to see.  
  
"So," said Sirius, "what shall we do now?"  
  
Remus considered the question. "Fancy a game of chess?" 


End file.
